Getting thrown hurts.
It's not so much the whiplash as the actual impact you make with the ground.
Every nerve in the body lights up to let you know; maybe you shouldn't be getting slammed into the earth at the speed of a car.
And when you have three nervous systems, things can really start to feel sore.
After two and a half days of training with Bakugo, you were surprised one of your backbones hadn't broken.
"What was that bullshit line Aizawa gave us?" You asked with a grumble, staring up at the foliage blocking the sky. It was probably the 100th time Bakugo managed to knock you down in that forest. At this point, it was more enjoyable to watch the wind carry through the leaves than get back on your feet. "You need to work on your defense?"
"It wasn't bullshit."
Your eyes flickered from the canopy.
Bakugo stood above you, eyes soft, expression neutral, sweat and dew drops lining his jaw.
The frame of his shoulders seemed bigger when he was breathing heavy, even more so when he looked down at you like that.
It was eye-catching.
He never had outbursts when you two were alone anymore.
Instead it was mostly silence or little sly back and forths that ended with one of you smirking and the other scowling for a few minutes.
You weren't sure what that meant yet.
That he acted so different when others weren't around.
Of course you didn't have a lot of time to ponder over it since he crouched down and planted his hand by your neck.
"You're just that bad at attacking." Using that same hand to grab you by the hood, the boy hoist you upright and threw you forward.
"Oh, yeah cause that's so much better." You said, once you'd stumbled forward a few steps and regained your balance.
Bakugo immediately put his fists up, got in stance, lowered his chin, focused on your movements.
He was so motivated, so keen on beating you every single time, even without the use of your quirks.
You really had underestimated him. If he was so willing to fight with all his will now, how would he fight during the festival?
And for someone so emotional, he sure calculated every single move he took.
Shoto was the opposite.
Only subtle hints of emotion that could ever escape his eyes, yet most attacks he planned had no other thought but his main goal in mind.
You hoped Aizawa was helping with that.
But you shouldn't have been thinking of Shoto's training partner when yours was yet again tripping up your legs and knocking you down.
Out of breath, he wiped his mouth, staring down at you, folding up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows.
"Come at me again."
This was starting to get redundant.
But again, he pulled you back to your feet and again you went at each other, putting up blocks and sparring till again and again and again you ended up on your back, staring up at the same branches.
And again and again, Bakugo gave the same order, each time with angrier tone.
"Again."
Groaning out of boredom more than pain, you sat up, wiping the dirt of your back.
"You know you have a good few dozen pounds of muscle on me right?"
"And you have the experience and teachings of the number two hero." He barked. "Don't make excuses."
